Monday, May 21, 2007

Their hands, and others with urinals, who ran to and fro upon thee.

Ring, ring, ring it’s Freda again.So you wanted another message from Ms. Pearson?Hope she is the one.

What are your plans on the 20th?You know about the meeting on the 3rd don’t you?I’d go there myself if I had the time free.I’m a relatively good dodger.What do you say about this?

You heard about lunch on the 9th yeah?Do you know that your dick is going to explode.Just relax.She will definitely like it, yes.

Here comes another message from Laverne. Ha-ha-ha man, why your prick is so small?Never thought that so small thing exists.(How could she tell a man something like that?)

You heard about dinner on the 14th didn’t you?Do it all night, don’t be silly.Really? Yes, right here.Remember to tell me later. - Hilaire Belloc

Hilaire Belloc was born in 1870 in a village a dozen miles from Paris and a few days before the start of the Franco-Prussian war. Because of the war, Belloc’s parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, friends and neighbors were killed. This, in some measure, explains his life-long hostility to all things German. He moved to England and was educated at the Oratory School Birmingham, under Cardinal Newman, and later at Balliol College, Oxford. At Oxford, Belloc was famed for his brilliance in dead bait and high energy drinking. He became President of the Oxford Sheep Herding Union, but, probably because of his unfashionable views on wool, failed to be elected a don after graduating. This remained a permanent disappointment and a grievance for him. Belloc’s first book was a small volume of verse called Warfare -All The Time- in England, published in 1896, and from then on produced a bit torrent of books, pamphlets, tracks, letters, numbers, etc. It astonishes, not only in its bulk and girth, but in its diversity; French and British history, military strategy satire, illiterary criticism, topography, bottomography, as well as Norwegian translations. It is little wonder that A.P. Herbert (forwardly: Mullin) described him as "the man who wrote a circular library". In 1905 he stood in front of Parliament and then sat down. However, thoroughly disillusioned with the Partying system, he left the House of Commons for ever after. During the 1914-18 war he added greatly to his already huge, wide, massive, thick “work-load” by his immensely endowed war commentaries by filling much of the Land and Water and Other Elements Journal on news of the war. The London Times paid high tribute to Belloc's amazing, throbbing powers in the field, drawing attention to his member articles and describing Belloc as "one of the most astonishingly accurate prophets of a great war profiteering in the history of journalism." Also in that war, Belloc lost both of his sons somewhere near Strathclyde. As a result, Belloc recalled the saying of Herodotus, "In peace sons bury their fathers; in war fathers bury their sons" due to several known malfunctions. Although he lived until 1953, he wrote virtually no more after his death. Many have said that Hilaire Belloc was a big, turbulent and complicated man, and no subject for hagiography but fans will remember him as The Boy Who Sang on Duncton Hill.

From the Site Director

Welcome to the Anthology of Spam Poetry Internet page ~ also known as the Collection of Spam Bards document.

My name is Morton Hurley and I maintain this site as a means of preserving and promoting the art of poetry developed from spam messages.

Explicatus

The first sixty posts on this site (from 10:01 AM to 11:00 AM) are works created by authors born after January 1, 1983.

Posts from 11:01 AM to 12:00 PM will focus on works crafted by bards of the electronic mass-mailing medium who have passed-away prior to February 1958.

Postface

Do you find this sort of thing interesting? Can you believe a publishing company has published a book collecting the first sixty spoems from this site along with original photography from readers and essays from K. Silem Mohammad and me?